


Hun Kaal Zoor

by Claudia_Lilith



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Elder Scrolls Fusion, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, none of them know what they're doing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-04-23 15:38:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14335653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claudia_Lilith/pseuds/Claudia_Lilith
Summary: Once upon a time in the magical land of Tamriel Nicky Hemmick was having a very bad day. On the other hand Neil Josten was having a very bad life.In which there are bad assassin's, good thieves, a confused Dragonborn and some incredibly nosy Daedra.





	1. Fuck Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> This was Beta'd by the wonderful aflyingcoffeebean AKA Flighty-Fox AKA Kace AKA my room-mate and best-friend. 
> 
> Here's the Skyrim Au nobody wanted. I was playing Skyrim and thinking about how much I love Nicky Hemmick and thus this fic was born because he deserves the world.

The tree’s seemed particularly dense today, a thick ceiling that blocked all access to the sky. Leaves crunched loudly under the weight of each footfall, soft leather boots treading heavily through the thicket. Nicky felt the weight of the world pressing down around him, the silence in the air was oppressive, a thick tangible thing forced into his lungs over and over again. His face felt stiff and tight from the dried tears smeared across it, eyes puffy and red. In the distance a crow cawed, the wind rustled the leaves around him.

Nicky was dredging his way to Cyrodiil in search of what was left of his family. He hadn’t heard from Aaron for nearly eighteen years now, vague memories of a quiet toddler rattled  through his head as he continued walking. No one had heard from Tilda since she moved to the capital all those years ago. He had no reason to believe that Aaron would be willing to take him in, not after the debacle with his parents. This whole journey was a mess of possible pitfalls. What if Aaron didn’t remember him? What if he cast Nicky aside the way his parents had not three days ago? Nicky stopped for a moment to stare up at the canopy, he had no way of knowing what time of day it was until the sun set .

A yell from his right cut through the calm and caught Nicky’s attention. There was a man running through the trees. He looked like a typical Nord, his tunic was torn in several places, and blood was smeared across his face from a scratch on his cheek. Behind him several imperial guards chased after him.

Nicky jumped to the side to avoid the runaway nord moments before one of the officers tackled him. Nicky spat the dirt out of his mouth and tried to wiggle out of the grip the soldier had on him. When he opened his mouth to ask what was going on the other Imperial officer grabbed his arms and began to tie them together in front of him.

“What’s going on!” Nicky tugged back in an attempt to get away from the rope but the officer just yanked the knot tighter in response.

“You’re illegally crossing the border. You damn stormcloaks think you can just do whatever you want-”

“Wait!” Nicky shook his head in a frenzy, “I’m not a-”

“Shit him up already!” The guard who had apprehended the other man called over, “We have to get them to Helgen before Mundas.”

The guard holding Nicky nodded slightly to himself and muttered under his breath as he took a dagger out of his belt. Nicky only had a few moments to realize what was going on before the hilt slammed into his skull and all he knew was darkness.

____________________________________________________________________________

There really was something to the small villages scattered around Skyrim. Everyone knows everyone, making it easy to find whoever, or whatever, you’re looking for. Neil was passing through Helgen from Falkreath, pack full to the brim of gold and various bits of armor. The town was firmly in the grips of the Imperial legion, guards were stationed everywhere through the village. Off to the side of the courtyard there stood a small stand selling various fruits and vegetables, the woman behind the stand was haggard, run ragged from a harsh life. If Neil had a say he would think she was one of those who traveled, probably moving from the mines of Markarth, or the cold of Winterhold.

He flicked a gold coin into the basket where he had just grabbed an apple from her stand. Her hands were heavily calloused, clear evidence of hard work. Markaarth then. He wished her a good day and took a bite from his newly acquired apple. She smiled at him and wished him a good day before looking down at the gold coin on her stand in confusion, wondering where it came from.

Neil left her in confusion as he meandered across the square, his legs ached painfully. There was a burning sensation in his thighs, and an ever present stitch in his calf after the run he had decided to indulge in between Falkreath and Helgen. The forest provided good cover, if he wanted to he could make it all the way back to Riften without leaving the cover of tree’s.

He was just contemplating the best route back when a wagon full of prisoners pulled into town. Neil let curiosity get the better of him and followed the track around the tower to investigate, taking a small bite of his apple before peeking over at the prisoners. A line of about fifteen haggard looking stormcloaks and one confused redguard stood shackled and lined up. Several of them kept sneaking nervous glances towards the tower, Neil let his eyes wander to what had their attention with mild curiosity. At the sight of the guillotine Neil’s apple hit the ground, rolling a few feet away from him and bumping into an Imperial Soldiers foot. He scrambled at his cowl, making sure it was firmly in place as he began to back up.

His heart sped up as the imperial soldiers led the first man to the chopping block, a match to his heaving chest. The whole world narrowed down to the sight of the man kneeling on the ground, his vision darkening around the edges as he took another step, back hitting the stone of the tower wall behind him. A rumble echoed through him, a shiver that permeated his entire body. It came again as the blade descended, severing the man's head from his body.

He clenched his fist as the next prisoner ran for it, too slow, too late. The arrow moved in slow motion, going straight through the man’s neck. The cut off choking of a dead man echoed through the courtyard for a moment, blood pushed its way sluggishly out his body leaving Neil  to stare down at the now dead body several soldiers were hauling away.

He watched as they drug the next prisoner to the chopping block, a tall dark man, clearly not a nord, with wild dark hair and scared eyes. He looked as if he’d never worked in the fields a day in his life. Neil was willing to bet all the gold in his pack that this man was innocent.

Before they could shove the man onto his knees another rumble shook the earth, Neil tore his gaze away from the proceedings and looked up, suddenly aware that the sound wasn’t coming from inside himself.

A roar pounded at his eardrums, out of the corner of his eye he caught the sight of a massive wing. The dragon it belonged to swooped down before landing atop the tower, in the split second before all hell broke loose Neils eyes darted to the old woman and her produce stand.

“Fuck it” he muttered, before darting through the shadows to cross the square.

_________________________________________________________________________

It was loud, very loud, and the panicked shaking in Nicky’s hands hadn't stopped since he regained consciousness. He didn’t want to die, he hadn’t done anything to deserve this. He wasn’t a member of the stormcloaks, he wasn’t with Ulfric.

 When the blade came down on the first man’s head Nicky felt his heart stall. This couldn’t be happening, this must be some nightmare. The only other option was punishment, for not living up to his father's expectations, for thinking he could find what was left of someone who might think of him as family.

When the next man ran Nicky closed his eyes before the arrow hit, only opening them again when the soldier in front of him asked for his name. He was a handsome enough man, and most importantly he didn’t seem to take any pleasure in the executions currently taking place.

“My name is Nicky Hemmick.” his voice shook, breaking in the middle. A furrow appeared between the man’s eye.

“You’re not on the list…” The eyes that met his were sad, “I’m sorry, is there anywhere you want us to send your remains?” Nicky felt his head shake, there was no one who would want his remains anymore.

The walk to the guillotine felt like an eternity, everything was fuzzy. As they fastened him down into the correct position a loud roaring shook the earth and the executioner stepped away in shock. Nicky sat up in confusion as the screaming started, and found himself face to face with a beast from legend.

Just when he had thought this day couldn’t get any worse, a fucking dragon just had to show up.

_____________________________________________________________________

Neil reached the woman just as the dragon let loose a stream of fire from it’s jaws. He knew most every nook and cranny of this country; had spent years picking through every city and village and knew that the soldiers and prisoners would be headed underground in an attempt to get out through the tunnels. Neil had a better idea however.

“Come with me!” He grabbed a hold of her hand and tore off his cowl, gripping it tight in his other so she would remember him, remember to follow him. There was a house, three buildings down from where they were that had a secret exit out to behind the  town that was located through its cellar. The owner had probably already escaped down that hatch.

The woman behind him clearly had issues moving quickly, there was the stiffness of age in her joints that had killed so many before her. Her breath wheezed, but she followed him nonetheless. It was clear their only salvation was that the dragon was far more invested in the crowd of soldiers on the other side of the square to care about two people sneaking into a home behind it.

Neil found the uncovered hatch and lifted it up to reveal a wooden ladder, he impatiently signaled the woman to go down into the hole quickly, already the weight of heat signaling a spreading fire was starting to press down upon them.

He quickly followed her into the dark must of the cellar, for her sake he found himself thankful that it was only ten feet below floor level. The tunnel itself let out about fifty feet from the town. It would have to be enough to separate them from the collateral. The walls of the tunnel grew oppressive as they made their way through its tight corridors, the cloying scent of earth reminiscent of a tomb a scent Neil didn’t like very much for a number of reasons. He climbed out of the hole first and left the exit open wide for the woman, who breathed a litany of thank you’s and blessing on him before revealing her name, Anvian.

Neil gave her a wobbly smile urging her on before slipping the cowl back over his head and taking off into the trees, determined to put as much distance between him and the existence of dragons as he possibly could.

___________________________________________________________________________

Nicky ran from the dragon as fast as he could with his balance as compromised as it was. He ducked between a building and the outer wall of the town and ran straight into the imperial soldier who had asked for his name.

“Cut me loose!!” Nicky pleaded, they wouldn’t leave him like this to die would they? The soldier didn’t even answer, just cut through the ropes and pointed him towardsa large tower structure before yelling, “Get into the keep! We’ll rendezvous there!”

He nodded and raced towards the keep door, slamming it shut behind him and coming face to face with four haggard looking soldiers in a fight with two of the prisoners. Nicky lunged towards an abandoned broadsword just in time to avoid a dagger to the chest. The fight was over before he had fully oriented himself, in the commotion the soldier who had sent him here had joined the fray.

Nicky followed him down into the dungeon, desperately fighting off the other rogue prisoner’s. By the time they reached the cave system Nicky was covered in blood, nearly gagging from the iron taste and barely able to walk upright. He stumbled down into the cave system and face planted into the creek. He was out of breath and slipping into shock, but still the soldier helped him up and supported his weight long enough for him to find his feet again.

He was soaked through to the bone in freezing water, shivering with the cold of it and shock when they finally stumbled out of the cave into the harsh sunlight. Nicky collapsed onto the ground and leaned back on his forearms, soaking in the meager warmth provided by the sun, while the soldier leaned forward and panted into the space between his knees.

A bubble of laughter burst out of him, just shy of hysteria. “We’re alive!” Nicky grinned up at his companion before giving into the laughter. He curled his arms around his sides as tears started to flow down his face. “I’m alive!”

It was about midday now, and the sun was at its peak and he was alive.

“Listen kid,” The soldier panted out, “If you ever want to join the legion we have a place for you in our ranks.” Nicky looked up at him, suddenly unsure. 

“And if I don’t?” The man just shrugged.

“Either way, I need to head to the nearest camp. Can you go talk to some cousins of mine? Tell them about the dragon? Riverwood is the closest town to Helgen, they’re in danger and I can’t-” He cut himself off and took a deep breath. “I can’t do anything to help them but send a warning ahead.”

There was a click in the back of Nicky’s throat when he swallowed and nodded. The reality of the situation came rushing in suddenly, dragons had returned to Tamriel. The smoldering remains of Helgen stood as a testimony to the destruction they could cause.  

“He’s the blacksmith, tell him Hernandez sent you.”

Nicky watched the man walk away with a sense of foreboding. He stumbled down the trail, looking for the tell-tale signs of the road, body heavy with exhaustion and fear, until Nicky lost sight of him.

____________________________________________________________________

It had been a week since the unfortunate demise of Helgen. The sharp glint of the guillotine had haunted Neil’s dreams for most of that time. The roar of an impossible dragon mixed with screaming and blood echoing through his mind with unwanted clarity.

He worked his way carefully through the woods surrounding Whiterun. Word of the dragon attack had spread quickly to Riften, and the disbelief that trickled through his ratway was palpable. If he hadn’t been at Helgen during the attack he knew that the rumors would have filled him with disbelief as well.

Neil  began to see bits of the fields surrounding the walled city through the tree’s, and quickened his pace. There was a Daedric artifact stuck in the basement of Dragonsreach. Every time Neil entered the city he felt it, reaching out for a grasp of life. The energy surrounding it called to him, but it took time to gather necessary Intel before he had a chance of executing a successful heist.  So many things could go wrong, there were many guards that could spot something amiss.

Neil approached the city’s southern watchtower with the intention of sneaking through the shadow off the western side and avoiding detection entirely, a mostly unnecessary action seeing as the cowl made him unknowable, when he was interrupted by an earth shaking roar that pierced the afternoon air.

Neil froze, recognizing the sound.

A shout rang out from the tower as a dragon descended upon the fields. The guards fired arrows at the beast in rapid succession as more approached from the city gates. Neil barely jumped out of the way as the dragon breathed fire into the fields, the heat scalding down the right side of his body in a way that was too familiar for comfort.

In the midst of the approaching guards one of the men wore a slightly familiar face, a glint of darker skin and soft innocence in their eyes as they ran towards the dragon, broadsword raised as if they had any chance of defeating this impossible creature. Neil watched in disbelief as one of the prisoners from Helgen raced towards the dragon, seemingly unscathed and determined to face the death he had evaded.

He went to run around the chaos, but before he could a soldier was thrown in front of him, his lifeless body leaking blood onto the grass. The guardsmen were losing this battle. The dead outnumbered the living. Though, against all odds, the prisoner from Helgen still fought on.

Neil darted behind a loose bit of rubble that was strewn across the battlefield, quickly notching his mother’s bow and loosing a steel arrow. The arrow landed square in the dragon’s eye. There was a moment of confused silence before the dragon reared up and away to face the new threat.

While the dragon was distracted the prisoner ran under the dragon's stomach and sliced at the soft underbelly, a thick stream of blood began to ooze out onto the earth. Neil let loose another arrow, this one pushing up under the dragon’s scaled head and going through the thick skin underneath. With a last growl the creature collapsed onto the ground, twitching slightly in it’s last dying moments.

There was a moment of blessed silence where the survivors knelt in the dirt contemplating their prey before the wind grew unbearable. A rushing like the tides themselves sounded in Neil’s ears as a swirl of light rose from the dragon’s body and raced into the prisoner’s being, enveloping him in light and sound.

A chanting rose in the air, growing loader with each moment as the man collapsed under the weight of whatever light was entering him.

Neil cursed under his breath, he had no time to deal with a fucking dragonborn.

____________________________________________________________________

Nicky’s ears rang and popped in the wake of the strange light. Strange spots still dotted his vision as he limped back to Whiterun. The soldiers he had fought with all kept their distance, muttering behind hands and shooting him awed glances.

He had no idea what was going on and at this point he was too afraid to ask.

As they reached the gates voices boomed through the air, ringing out and grabbing the attention of everyone in the vicinity.

“The Greybeards!” one female guard breathed out. “They’re calling to the dragonborn!” Nicky looked over to her, confusion painted onto his face. “They’re calling for you!” Her eyes were alight with excitement. Nicky felt the blood drain from his face as he froze.

“I’m the what?”

________________________________________________________________________

It was a beautiful sunny day when the booming chants interrupted his work. The unexpected disturbance was annoying at best, and completely uncalled for.

Regardless of reclusive old men on a mountain Andrew still had a target to kill. The pay was meager, just fifty gold for a worthless drunk who bit off more than he could chew with a local noble family and chose to hide out in Ivarstead of all places.

The townsfolk were all gathering at the base of the mountain, staring up at the Throat of the World in wonder as the Greybeards broke their silence. It was the perfect moment to strike at the drunk who lagged behind.

His target was leaning drunkenly against a barn, squinting up into the light when Andrew let the dagger fly, laughing as it thunked into the barn wall four feet to the left of his intended target.

Andrew shrugged, he would finish the job later, maybe.

_______________________________________________________________________

The roads to Skyrim where treacherous. Sharp rocks kept snagging at the wheels of the wagon Aaron led through the high mountain pass. He was clearing some larger rocks from the path when strange booming chants reached his ears, an all encompassing sound that had his head whipping towards the wagon with hope. The booming chords of an unfamiliar language enveloped him and he staggered back to the wagon.

“Night Mother?” He croaked out, throat sore from a week of disuse. “Are you finally speaking to me?”

_________________________________________________________________________

Allison was lounging behind her counter, watching a man pick through her clothing racks with dirt-smudged fingers. She had just decided to throw the filth out of her shop when the voices of the Greybeards filled the air.

“I have no time for this.” Her eyes flashed in annoyance as she stalked towards the man and grabbed him by the ear, dragging him out of the shop with little remorse and depositing him into the streets of Solitude. The probability of the chanting involving her was minimal, and she had other things to worry about.

___________________________________________________________________________

Wymack and his fellow companions gathered around the table, his second in command, Dan, was briefing the new kid on how the guild ran. Kevin was soaking up every bit of knowledge they threw at him, eyes intent. He had deserted the Ordinators not a month before and found himself on their doorstep.

The chanting that suddenly boomed through the air put a stop to all conversation, the language unfamiliar and grating on the ears. In the silence that followed his team glanced at each other with uncertainty.

That couldn’t be a good sign.

___________________________________________________________________________

There was a mallet pounding away at the inside of Jean’s head. The pounding mixed with an odd chanting that only worsened the pain. It took him a minute to orient himself, and take stock of the aches pulsating through his body. He cracked open his eyes and squinted up into the soft light streaming through the windows of a building he didn’t recognize. Above him concerned blue eyes watched him, a worried frown maring a perfect face.

Jean forced a deep breath into his aching lungs before croaking out a soft “Where am I?” The man opened his mouth to respond but before he could Jean felt himself being pulled back into the darkness of unconsciousness.


	2. Renee Goes on a Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait guys!!!

The smell of mold is strong in the Ratways. It didn’t use to be, once there was only the illusion of a gutter. Fresh cooked meals and the scent of humans, clean and dirty used to permeate the air. Now it’s just mold. Renee watched the skeevers scurry out of moldy cracks in the rock and drop into the pond below, swimming towards the scent of food. The giant rat-like creatures grew frenzied once they spotted Renee, eager for a hint of meat outside of the half-rotted corpses of their fallen brethren. 

She flicked her pale hair out of her face with an exasperated huff. Without rising from her desk Renee tossed three throwing daggers into the skeever, watching them clunk into the body, spoiling the water. Not like the water wasn’t already disgusting, you only drank it if you had a death wish, and even the most foolish among the the thieves refused to put so much as a toe in the water. 

Her desk was littered with orders, five small level personal thefts, twelve books to cook, and three more drastic heists. As much as Renee hated to get involved in the Black-Briars business they seemed to be the only thing keeping the guild afloat anymore. Any big job involved sabotaging potential threats to Maven’s business, and they couldn’t afford to turn down the jobs. Every now and again a strange order would show up, like the time they had a request to steal a dagger from a Hagraven without damaging the Hag in question. For the most part they were stuck to petty feuds between family members. 

“Nine protect us,” Renee muttered, reaching down to open the lower drawer of her desk to find a decent quill, “From another case of stolen fake jewels.” Three of the five personal thefts where supposedly stolen family heirlooms that the owners wanted back at any cost, when Renee and her men had acquired them it had quickly became obvious none of the loot was actually worth anything outside of sentimental value. 

Something felt off when she popped back up, ready to cross the completed orders off her list. It felt like she had missed something, forgotten an important detail and just couldn’t place her finger on what it could possibly be. She glanced about with a sense of unease, slipping her hand over the pommel of a knife and searching the shadows of the room. All the other agents were out, the main floor of the guild left empty.

In her scan Renee noticed a new piece of paper on her desk, there was no way she could have missed them before. The order was written in familiar blocky handwriting, delivered as mysteriously as these missives normally were. 

Enchanted emerald necklace- Radiant Raiments- Solitude 150g  
-Fox 

Looks like she found her next job.  
__________________________________

“How far away are the ten-thousand steps anyway?” Nicky blinked up at Erik, brow furrowed. Over the past three hours the sun had beat down relentlessly on them, the uphill slant around the mountains reducing his legs to jelly and staling the air from his lungs.After four hours on horseback Nicky had decided to give the horses a break and walk with them, body aching from his time in the saddle. A cool breeze wafted up from the river on their left, chilling his sweat soaked figure where he lay sprawled in the middle of the road. Their horses grazed peacefully a few yards away, tearing at clumps of weeds growing out of the rock face before wandering down to the river for a drink. 

Erik looked at the scene with a hint of exasperation, laughing quietly to himself as the dragonborn flopped down at the ground to stare at the sky. 

“Ivarstead is about a day and half’s ride from Whiterun. We’ll probably get there tomorrow evening if we ride the horses the rest of the way instead of meander about.”

Nicky pouted over at Erik before reaching over and plucking a blue mountain flower from the ground and scrambling back to his feet. He stretched, arms reaching up to the sky before leaning forward and sliping the flower into Erik’s hair with a small grin. 

Erik reached up to grab the flower, hand frozen halfway when Nicky scrambled back onto his mare. 

“Well slowpoke are you planning on joining me?”   
_________________________________________________________

It was a long journey from Riften to Solitude. Five days on horseback turned into two weeks on foot when a run-in with a frost troll killed the stallion she had been traveling with. It had taken her five hours to reach the river to clean the blood off her armor. The brown leather long since dyed a dirty maroon from bloodstains. 

Sometimes Renee missed the black of brotherhood armor. She dealt less in blood these days, but it would be nice not to worry about the stains when a run-in with a beast leaves her soaked and smelling of death. 

All this and she didn’t even get to fight the beasts that had Skyrim in a tizzy. Two weeks and no dragons. Each village, each homestead, everywhere she turned Renee heard about the dragons flying over the landscape. It was all rather dull. People wanting the glory of defeating a dragon but unwilling to go out and hunt them down. 

“May the Nine protect me from the folly of man.” Renee muttered as she crossed the river. The cliff-face of Solitude loomed above her, imposing and frigid as the north always was. Her hood pulled low as she hugged the left side to make room for carriages and other foot traffic, people in far more a hurry than her. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a flash of white-blonde, about half a foot below her eye level, draped in a familiar black. 

“Andrew!” Renee felt a smile slip onto her face, the soft one reserved just for him. Andrew was the brother she missed the most, he may not be the best assassin but he was the least bloodthirsty. 

“Renee.” Andrew had stopped in the middle of the bridge, forcing traffic to move around him. “Work?” 

Renee nodded, “You?” He shrugged and moved over to lean against the bridge where she was standing. Staring down into the river. “How have you been.”

“Alive” The wry twist of his mouth was almost unnoticeable, would have been missed by most others but she saw it. 

She would see him again, in passing. They always did. She’d spent the past five years trying to convince him to leave the brotherhood. Not necessarily for the thieves guild, just to get away from the bloodshed. He didn’t seem to enjoy it, remained separate from the family, he would be happier elsewhere. She could only hope her prayers would one day be answered and he would find peace. 

They parted ways quietly, as they usually did. Renee found a bounce in her step that she had been lacking for the later quarter of her trek while she climbed up the wandering path into Solitude. It took roughly ten minutes to weave through the foot traffic, It turns out the stables never learned and one of their stallions had “disappeared” from the stable a few hours earlier. The guard assigned to deal with the theft only paid half an ear to the enraged stablemaster. 

Solitude guards always were easy to pay off.

She slipped into the gates, hood drawn low, sidestepping the guard checking through the rabble. It was crowded enough that her hold alone allowed the guards to turn a blind eye. Even with the guild in shambles respect was still merited out. The guards knew why she was here, not the specifics, but a thief wearing their colors tells their purpose, the guards wouldn't care as long as she did not get caught. 

Her mark today was just at the entrance, a garment shop of renown through Skyrim. Radiant Raiment looked quaint from the outside. An overhang protected the entry from the unpredictable weather of the north, the sign swinging down, occasionally knocking the post when a particularly strong gust swept through the street. 

Renee lowered her hood as she approached the shopfront. Absentmindedly brushing a strand of white hair behind her ear. The object was kept in a safe on the third floor, underneath the fourth floorboard on the right hand corner. The letters were always painstakingly specific, though they rarely came to her desk. 

The front counter was completely abandoned, only the soft murmur of voices from across the shop even revealed that it was occupied. It was a simple matter to let the shadows envelop her. To softly slip into Nocturnal’s embrace as she was graced with a tad more luck than normal. 

When she began to slip up the stairs she knew the owner wouldn’t see her even if she was standing two feet away looking straight at her, the shadows were too deep today for such things. Nocturnal had blessed this mission. 

Once Renee made it up the stairs the rest of the extraction was simple, the upper levels of the store were completely abandoned at this time of day. The gentle murmur of business drifting up from the cobblestone streets below masked the soft thud of Renee’s footsteps against the planked floor. 

She knew, with a bone-chilling certainty that the object she had been contracted to extract was located on the third floor, wedged underneath the floorboards in the farthest corner to the right of the steps. The slight squeak of a barely tacked in board alerted her to the loose section, easy enough to peel away in the end. 

The necklace itself of beautiful, a string of near perfect emeralds delicately linked on a golden chain. It pulsed, a wild sort of enchantment radiating off of the largest stone, set in a clasp of blinding platinum. 

She stuffed it clumsily into a pocket, stitched carefully into the side of her tunic. Breaking the temporary thrall of the necklace. 

It turned out that crawling back down the stairs was destined to be more challenging than the initial infiltration. She had made it back into the store from the residential section of the building, and was just to the front door when a voice called out from behind her.

“Are my wares above your paygrade darling?” 

Renee twisted abruptly, frozen for a split second as she caught sight of the shop-owner for the first time. 

Before her stood an unusually tall high elven woman. Perfectly maintained blonde curls piled atop her head, drawing attention to the high, angular features that were boldly accented with rough and facial powders. Her gown draped perfectly over the contours of her body, though when she stepped forward Renee noticed that the fabric split strategically through the legs. Fabric draped in such a way that her trousers appeared to the naked eye to be skirts. 

Renee found her attention caught by the shrewd dark eyes peering down at her. 

“Or is there a different reason you’ve entered my shop in thieves attire?” One perfect eyebrow arched up when the question was posed. 

“What this?” Renee grinned up at the woman innocently, “I picked it off a corpse on the road, not like they needed their armor anymore.”

“Deal in death often dear?” 

A frisson of old fear shot through through Renee, a remembered darkness crawling in from the edges of her vision. Her smile came a tad more forced but still maintained. 

“Of course not, thieves don’t kill people. Everyone knows that.”

The shopkeeper was openly smirking down at Renee now, a contemplative gleam in her dark eyes. 

“Pleasure to meet you thief, my name is Allison. Would you care to join me at the inn for dinner?” 

It was a job, there was always something to lose. Renee needed to assume that this Allison knew that something had been stolen from her residency, se had to know that Renee was leaving instead of coming in, but still she grinned down at Renee. 

She was captivating though, and somehow, hip cocked out and arms crossed over her chest, she seemed more capable than all the members of her guild combined. 

The smile that rose to the surface in response to Allison's held a touch of blood. For just a moment it wasn’t Renee sizing up a potential threat. She was Natalie once more, staring down an equal for the first time in her life.

This could be interesting.

“Renee, and I can think of nothing better.” 

_________________________________________________________________

 

“...Thieves don’t kill people…”  
She had one job, just one. Get the object, and don’t get caught. Renee was the best known member of the guild, the leader who filled the power vacuum left after the decline. She used the skills learned in the Dark Brotherhood and applied them seamlessly to the purposes of the guilde. 

However, it would seem that she could abandon reason as quickly as anyone else when confronted with a pretty face.

An old beggar man slid into the absence Neil left behind when he melted back into the shadows surrounding the shop. At least she had managed to obtain the necklace, at least the major bulk of the heist was successful. 

Renee dropped the gems into a nearby barrel when she sauntered past, right at the moment the woman she had met in the shop turned to look at the shadows he hid inside. Her attention didn’t bother him, even if she saw him he was nothing but a shadow, as quick to leave her mind as he was to enter. 

Three guards stood by the gate, watching the two women cross the street with thinly veiled desire. Easily distracted by the way Renee leaned into the hand the Elf woman laid at the small of he back. 

He reached into the barrel, the necklace had slipped in between the produce, snagging halfway down on the stem of a gord. The magic of the enchantment raced up and mixed with the magic that rested passively on the surface of Neil’s skin, trying to pierce through and mingle with the magic held within his shields. 

He curled the emerald into a ball of gold and jewels before carefully placing it into a pouch kept just at his heart, runes curled through the fabric, glowing with a gentle green light. Once he knew the necklace was secure he turned to the gate, ready to leave the metropolis of Solitude in favor of the winding mountains.

There at the gates, stood Neil’s least favorite civilian in Skyrim, the worst assassin he had ever had the misfortune of meeting. He stood at the gate, staring the guard down who had stopped him. He made no effort to conceal his purpose in the city, brotherhood robes spattered liberally, dripping slightly of blood. 

They would never let him by, and Neil wondered how this five foot menace had managed not to be permanently removed from the last of the living. 

It wasn’t until he finally decided to leave the man be, sometimes people need to deal with their own problems and learn for themselves, that he heard the now familiar distant roar. 

He turned, blue eyes gazing up to the palace in tired disbelief.   
Did it always have to be dragons?  
___________________________________________________

Nicky raced between the giants legs, desperately trying to reach the horses that had fled further up the pass. They were no match for three giants, hell he doubted they could take one, ONE, singular giant if it was on its deathbed. 

Erik apparently had not received this memo. 

Nicky turned once he had caught up to the mare’s, only to see that Erik had felled one giant and had managed to slice off another's leg. The detached limb had been flung ten yards away from the main battle, blood soaked into the dirt, creating puddles as the dead giant slowly drained out from the slash across his neck. 

It took Erik three minutes to dispatch the remaining giants, having tripped the third over the cliffside. 

He was beautiful. The setting sun framed his silhouette, sword still drawn, hanging loosely at his side. His other arm was raised, wiping the remnants of blood and sweat from his face. Nicky had never seen such a perfect man. 

He turned away quickly to look at the horses, hoping that the distance was great enough between them that this perfect model of humanity wouldn’t notice the flush that had crept over his face. 

“Are you okay dragonborn?” Erik called out as he approached the horses. “It’s unusual to see giants this close to settlements, but I suppose the dragons are driving them out of their lands.” He reached out for the reigns of his mare, hand gently grazing Nicky's. 

Nicky turned on his heel, and stumbled slightly, having caught the side of his foot against a large stone. The world tilted dangerously for a moment, he felt the rush of air, just as strong arms surrounded him. 

He blinked up into the glare, Erik’s worried face looming over his when it slipped out-

“Damn that's hot.”


End file.
